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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232382">30 Days of Tombstone Territory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTrekkedUp/pseuds/AllTrekkedUp'>AllTrekkedUp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tombstone Territory (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Budding Love, Drinking, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Fist Fights, Gambling, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Romance, Shorts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTrekkedUp/pseuds/AllTrekkedUp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be 30 shorts/one shots 100 words or more.  (Probably more).  I will be using a word a day as inspiration mostly, some will be episode tags or missing scenes however.  I love TT and just discovered it back in spring, I hope others will maybe read this and take interest in this great little show.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay Hollister/Harris Claibourne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today's word is 'Heaven'.</p><p>September 1, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris Claiborne, editor of the Tombstone Epitaph, had just put his paper to bed.  It was around six o'clock in the evening when Harris put his hat on and slung his coat over his shoulder to leave.  He cast one more look back at his.messy floor, piled up desk and stacked new editions before locking up for the night.  He walked across the street to the sheriff's office to see Clay Hollister one last time that day. When he opened the door he saw the man at his desk with his tie lose and his shirt unbuttoned down to the third button, when he looked up he smiled.</p><p>"Harris!  Come on in," he said.</p><p>Harris smiled back at him and entered, passing through the gate he sat down on the corner of the desk.  There was something about the way Clay smiled at him that lightened his load and kept the world at bay, Harris could easily get high on that smile.</p><p>"Evening, Clay.  I was just on my way home and thought I would drop in," Harris said.  He had no reason to come other than that he wanted to see the younger man.</p><p>"Well I'm glad you did.  Distract me from this paperwork for a while.  Newspaper business giving you trouble?  You look awful tired," Clay noted. Harris's posture and weary eyes didn't go unnoticed by him.  He leaned back in his chair to see the man better, he put the pen in his hand down on the desk.</p><p>"Oh no, the press and I don't get into much trouble on our own.  It's this heat, Clay.  It's the hottest day this season so far," Harris commented.  The way Clay's eyes were studying him made him feel even hotter, he looked away.</p><p>"It's up over a hundred alright.  Can you believe Reverend Tuttle is holding a revival this week?" Clay said.</p><p>"Well, he shouldn't have to preach too hard.  Anybody who has suffered through August in Tombstone should have no desire to go into Hades," Harris commented with a smile. He took his handkerchief out and wiped the back of his neck with it.</p><p>Clay chuckled and leaned forward.  "That's true enough.  But I tell you what, I have a little slice of heaven right here," he said. He looked intently at Harris with a smile.</p><p>"Oh?  Do you have an oasis out behind the jail that you've not told me about?" Harris asked.  The way he looked at him made his heart beat quicken. </p><p>Clay grinned. "No.  But I have you.  And you help get me through," he said.</p><p>Harris grinned involuntarily and looked down. "Clay…" he trailed off.</p><p>Clay got up and raised his head for a kiss.  Harris closed his eyes and felt those lips on his, he knew for a fact that this was what bliss felt like.  When they parted they smiled at each other a moment and then Clay tapped a couple of fingers under Harris's chin.</p><p>"Come on, I'll walk you home before I make my rounds," he said.</p><p>Harris gladly accepted the offer and they left the office behind.  Walking down the sidewalk in the direction of where the sun was slowly lowering in the sky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Odds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 2, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Stage robber Bob Conroy and his gang of four had been faring well in their illegal endeavors.  Robbing stages leaving Prescott and Tucson without so much as feeling pressure from the law.  This left them confident and empowered.  These hauls only carried one so far at the poker tables in Gaileyville or at the Charleston roadhouse however, and soon the Conroy gang were on the prowl again.  This time hitting stages from Tombstone heading south towards the border, only this time they hit Clay Hollister's town.  And they were finding out that that decision was a mistake indeed.</p><p>The gang was hold up on top of a short, rocky hill in the beginnings of the desert that spread between Tombstone and Mexico.  They were in a gun battle with a posse from town, they had wounded three men, the only man left able to fire his gun was the sheriff.  Bob himself wasn't worried, they had the advantage and the odds were in their favor, they were up high and knew exactly where the posse was, plus they had a surplus of ammunition and water.</p><p>"Bob, when do you think they'll give it up? I'm tired," Greene complained. </p><p>Bob turned back his canteen. "Whenever those poor devils bleed enough to worry that sheriff.  He'll get on outta here and drag them back to see the doc," he said.</p><p>"One of 'em is moving to another rock down there," Parton informed.</p><p>"So what?  Look where they are and look where we are.  They don't have a chance, all we have to do is wait it out and then cross the border when they leave," Bob said.</p><p>All of a sudden the bullets started flying again and they began to pay better attention to what was happening below them.  A bullet grazed Swanson's head and he cried out in pain, dunking down.</p><p>"That sheriff needs killin'!" he yelped. Firing a bullet towards the rock where his black hat could be seen.</p><p>"It would get us out of here a lot quicker if he was.  Let's try to off him," Bob said, squinting one eye and squeezing off a shot. </p><p>"If you want to off him you're shooting the wrong way." </p><p>They quickly turned behind them, Clay shot two of them in their arms, causing them to drop their guns.  He had a gun in each hand and a fierce look in his eyes.</p><p>"I wouldn't try it if you want to live.  Those are my friends you shot down there, and if you tried something I might just have to shoot you in a spot where you would bleed out before we got back to town," Clay said. They knew by his tone that he meant it.</p><p>After another moment or two of thought the others threw their guns down.  Clay stepped to the edge and waved down at the others, Quint had been wearing his hat and took it off to wave back. Clay took rope that they had to tie them up with before they started down the hill.</p><p>"I just don't understand it.  We had everything going for us!" Bob complained.</p><p>Clay smirked. "Didn't you know, Conroy?  The odds always favor the better player in the game."</p><p>Bob Conroy thought alot about those words.  He had a lot of time to do so, serving ten years in Yuma prison</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Conditioned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 3, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay and his deputy Quint were traveling back to Tombstone from delivering a prisoner to Tucson.  Quint hadn't worked for his boss too long but from what time he had he knew Clay was a good lawman. Smart, cunning, and fair, it wasn't unlike him to push the limits or try something new, unconventional.  He also seemed made for the desert environment, something which Quint doubted he would ever get used to.</p><p>"If you want to say something go on and say it.  Or are you staring a hole into me because you think I'm handsome?" Clay smiled.</p><p>Quint looked away slightly embarrassed. "Sorry.  I just couldn't help noticing that we've been on the trail for over four hours and you haven't taken one drink yet.  I've downed half of my canteen already," he commented.</p><p>"It's alright.  Well, I guess I'm just used to how things are out here, how few and far between water holes can be this time of year," Clay said.</p><p>"It must take a lot to train yourself to not be thirsty," Quint said.</p><p>"Well, it's not that I'm not thirsty, it's sort of a test of endurance. To see how long I can go without before it's too much, it's one of a few things that I learned at the military academy where I went to school," Clay said.</p><p>"You went to a military school?" Quint inquiried.</p><p>"Yeah.  My Pa's idea, he's a military man himself.  But I always knew the army wasn't for me, so when I graduated I didn't sign up.  I hightailed it to Texas and took a deputy job there, I was about twenty," Clay explained.</p><p>It was hard for Quint to believe that his boss was only twenty-six, he himself was twenty-two. They weren't that far apart but Clay seemed older to him because of his knowledge. </p><p>"You've done well for yourself," Quint commented.</p><p>"The way I figure it is if I am giving my all, on all fronts, then the people of Tombstone are doing well.  This is a hard place, the people live hard here, to maintain law and give them a sense of safety is what they deserve.  So if I have to travel long in the heat without water to catch a killer, I had better be able to.  You just have to be in shape for it," Clay said.</p><p>"Maybe you could teach me some tricks then, huh?" Quint asked.</p><p>Clay smiled. "I'll be glad too," he said. </p><p>Quint started his education on the hot trail back to Tombstone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dead Dog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 4, 1886</p><p> </p><p>The Dead Dog mine was about to make it's monthly shipment of gold, only this time it was a special load.  This load would officially make the mine owner, Jason Shipley, a half a million dollars.  Shipley was proud of the fact and despite warnings from the sheriff, asked Harris to print up a story about it in the paper.  </p><p>Clay was standing along the street that morning when Harris mounted up to go out to the mine.  He had been keeping an eye on some drifters who had hit town a couple of days ago, they were talking by their horses a little ways down the street from where he was.  Clay waved when Harris rode by and trained his eyes once again on the drifters.  Harris hadn't passed them three minutes before they mounted up and began to follow along, Clay waited the same amount of time before following suit.</p><p>Shipley had closed down mine operations for the day for this historic occasion, so it was only himself, Harris and the gold shipment at the mine's entrance.  The shipment had a wagon with armed guards coming for it by ten o'clock in order to meet the ten forty-five stage to Benson.  Little did Shipley know that the men on his wagon had been bribed to stay away by outlaws and that half of them were planning to do him in that morning. </p><p>Harris and Shipley stood in front of the mine, Harris had his pad and pencil out, listening to the man talk.</p><p>"Now why don't we start with my background? Where I come from and how I got here," Shipley smiled.  He was a man in his sixties with a mustache and bright eyes.</p><p>Harris grinned. "Whatever you want, Jason.  Just start talking and I'll write," he said.</p><p>"Well, I come from Toll, Missouri and when I was-"</p><p>Harris wrote whatever Shipley told him, zoning out of any other sound but the older man's voice and the sound of pencil on paper.  When the first bullet flew at them it shocked them both and they were stunned a moment, the second one hit Shipley in the arm and the third shot off Harris's hat.  Harris quickly pulled Shipley in the mine and looked at his wound, it wasn't serious, but what was was the fact that neither one of them had a gun.  </p><p>"I wonder how long it will take whoever to find out we're unarmed?" Harris fretted.</p><p>"Not too long I'm afraid," Shipley said. He looked glum as he squeezed his shoulder.</p><p>But not long after they had said those words did they hear the gunfire shift in the other direction and then stop.  Harris chanced a peek outside and saw the bodies of two men laying on the ground and Clay coming towards them.</p><p>"Come on, Jason.  It's Clay!" Harris said happily. He helped the man up and they walked out of the mine.</p><p>"Clay! By golly it sure is good to see you!" Harris grinned.</p><p>"Are you okay? I took care of them, followed them out from town.  I suspect there will be a couple more with the wagon, but they'll give up easy without the others to back them up," Clay said.</p><p>"My gold!" Shipley declared and went to check over the boxes for bullet holes.</p><p>"Yeah, we're okay," Harris smiled.</p><p>Clay's eyes shifted to the sign on the mine.  "Talk about dead dogs, you two almost were.  What have I told you about carrying a gun when you leave town?" he asked. </p><p>"I'm sorry, Clay.  I just didn't think about it," Harris said, sorrowful.</p><p>"Yeah well, think about it next time, okay?" Clay smiled. He touched Harris's chin and winked before going over to have a look at Shipley's shoulder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Pen and Paper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 5, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Pen and paper, paper and press.  </p><p>Harris had had ink on his hands since he was eighteen years old.  He had helped put out his college's one page "paper" and never looked back.  He had been a reporter with the St. Louis Star, an assistant editor at the St. Joseph Gazette and after that he became the editor of his first paper, one that he started, in Bellevue, Kansas.  When he got the itch to move he loaded his press and type and joined a wagon train west to Arizona territory where his sister lived with her husband in Tucson.  He always thought fate had brought him to Tombstone, he left the wagon train to venture into Arizona near Tucson but a dust storm got him turned around and he ended up in Tombstone.  </p><p>It didn't take him long to set up shop and put The Epitaph into print once he got settled.  He waged a war of words on unlawful and unjust men, sometimes it was a hard fight, sometimes a dangerous one, but that was the life he had chosen.  The smell of ink, the sounds of the press were comforting to him, often he worked through the night, filling the lonely void with things familiar.  The all nighters were when he really got to know the town's sheriff.</p><p>Clay started coming around when he had put the town to bed, share his coffee and talk while the type was set and the press squeaked.  They got to know each other there and Harris came to expect Clay's visits and want him to come.  It was there Clay asked him out for the first time and there they had their first kiss, there he found out there was more to comfort and ink and press. </p><p>Being a newspaper man was Harris's life, it was his dream.  He had been fortunate enough to realize it more than once, but never before in a place like Tombstone.  Fate may have brought him there and it would have to be fate for him to leave the Town Too Tough To Die.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Patient</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 6, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris had been working from home these past few days except to go to print.  Doc Cunningham had released a patient in his care, for he didn't trust the sheriff to take his orders were he left alone.  </p><p>Harris worked at his desk in his study, he had the curtains open on all three windows to let light in and unfortunately the heat as well.  He was so wrapped up in his writing that he didn't hear Clay enter the room until he saw him looking out the front window out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>"Clay.  You shouldn't be out of bed, you know what the doctor said," Harris said, putting his pen down.</p><p>Clay sighed. "I know what he said but I can't take laying up there. At least down here I can be with you, it seems like since I moved into your house I see you less and less," he said sadly.</p><p>Harris got up and took him by his good arm, the other in a sling from a bullet in the shoulder, another bullet had hit his side but fortunately hadn't gone in too deep.  "At least sit down on the couch?"</p><p>Clay smiled and titled his chin up to kiss him.</p><p>"Clay!  The windows are open!" Harris fussed.</p><p>"So?" Clay asked, kissing again. </p><p>"You're not well enough to be carrying on this way," Harris said, leading him to the couch. He noticed a couple of women stopped outside on the street staring in.</p><p>"It's really only my shoulder that's hurt, you know?" Clay smirked as he sat down. </p><p>Harris went to close the curtains. "Now they'll be more gossip on the street than comes from the society section in the Epitaph," he complained. </p><p>Clay grinned. "It will give them something to talk about.  Can you take a break and sit with me?" he asked.</p><p>"As long as you behave yourself," Harris said, sitting down. </p><p>"Even when with the windows closed?" Clay asked. </p><p>Harris chuckled. He looked over at Clay who had his shirt on but it wasn't buttoned, he gingerly touched the bandage on his side.  "You doing okay?" he asked.</p><p>"Only sore, not too bad.  How is Quint getting along watching the man that did it to me?" Clay asked, putting his arm around Harris.</p><p>"Fine.  The marshal from Prescott should be here today to take him away.  That reminds me, I need to go down there and ask Quint when he is supposed to arrive," Harris said.</p><p>"I think that can wait," Clay smiled.  He leaned in to kiss him.</p><p>"Well I...I guess my patient needs me a little more right now," Harris smiled.</p><p>"Mmhm," Clay smirked. Putting his arm around him to kiss him once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Long Time Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 7, 1886</p><p> </p><p>It had been a lazy day, mid afternoon, the warm sun coming through the windows. Quint had his feet up on the desk, napping.  The door opening jarred him awake and he hurriedly put his feet down and rubbed his eyes.</p><p>Clay was bringing in an older man, handcuffed with a dirty blue jean jacket on and scold on his face.  The sight of him sent shockwaves through Quint and he stared at him wide eyed, mouth slightly agape.</p><p>"Quinty?" the older man asked. </p><p>Clay looked from him to Quint and back.  "You know him, Quint?" he asked.</p><p>"I- well, I used too.  That's my pa," Quint said.</p><p>Clay looked shocked but reckoned that that might be why the younger man never liked to talk about his family.  </p><p>"Quinty, you workin' for the law now?" the older man asked.</p><p>"Yeah, pa. Let's get you back to the cells," Quint said, looking defeated.</p><p>"We talk later on?" he asked.</p><p>"Sure, pa. If Clay says it's okay," Quint said. Taking his father's arm and leading him back to the first cell. He took off the handcuffs and locked the door, coming back into the outside office. </p><p>Clay looked at Quint a moment of two as he went to stand in front of the window.  "You want to talk about it?" he asked.</p><p>"About the fact that my pa is Culver Jones?  I guess there's no getting around it now," Quint sighed. </p><p>"Well you don't have to tell me anything, I just thought it might help you to get some things off your chest," Clay said, looking at the back of his head.</p><p>"I should have told you before, I just… I been a long time away and I wanted to forget all about it. About him and growing up. But everything comes back around I reckon," Quint said.</p><p>"Well I know he's a stage robber and has probably been into other things.  I suppose he wasn't much of a father to you," Clay tested.</p><p>"No. He ran my ma off when I was around ten, when she left he used to come home from his robberies and get drunk.  Sometimes he beat my brother and me… After a real hard beatin', Stacy and me made it up to run away. We figured if we ran separate ways he couldn't catch us both so we split up, left home and never went back," Quint said, his voice sounding far away.</p><p>"How old were you?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Fifteen. Stacy was a year older.  I don't know where he is now, but I hope he is well," Quint said.</p><p>Clay looked upset. "It's not okay with me," he said.</p><p>"What?" Quint asked, looking at him.</p><p>"Don't talk to him. He doesn't deserve it and you shouldn't have to go through seeing him.  I'll handle him while he is here," Clay said.</p><p>"Are you sure?  He can be pretty mean," Quint said.</p><p>"I'm sure.  You just said it's been a long time, let it be a lot longer hm?" Clay said.</p><p>Quint nodded. He was thankful, he didn't think he could deal with his father again. Not in any way.</p><p>"Why don't you go on patrol? I'm tired," Clay smiled.</p><p>"Alright," Quint gave a small smile back. He put on his hat and headed out the door.  Leaving his bad past behind him again, hopefully for the last time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sermons and Six Guns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Episode tag for the first season ep Sermons and Six Guns.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 8, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay took off his hat as he knocked on the door of the church parish, he hoped the reverend was in, he wanted to check on him.  Ever since it was revealed that Big Jim Sten was Malcom Tuttle's brother when Big Jim died, Clay had wondered about a few things.  It had been a week since it happened and Clay thought perhaps he could get some answers now.</p><p>Malcom answered the door and smiled at Clay. "Oh, Clay.  Please come in," he said.</p><p>Clay followed him in and sat down in his small living room.  "I wanted to see how you were doing.  I am sorry about your brother," he said.</p><p>"Well thank you.  I suppose Jim ended up reaping what he sowed, like we all do," Malcom said, dropping his head.</p><p>"If I wouldn't be prying, could I ask about you and Jim? Why didn't you tell me you were kin before? How did… how did things go the way they did between you two?" Clay asked.</p><p>"I didn't tell you because of how Jim was, I- I guess I was a bit ashamed at first.  But I didn't want you to do anything to him, he was my brother, I did love him," Malcom said. He took a breath before he continued.</p><p>"As far as the way things went...well I'm not exactly sure when it started.  Our parents gave us the best of everything, raised us right, but I suppose I first noticed a change in Jim when we were about ten.  I won a little contest at our church, memorizing the books of the Bible in order, Jim really won too, he got a book out of order in the New Testament. But they never acknowledged his efforts, he became a quiet boy after that, as we grew more I knew that I was the more favored.  Jim ran away when he was seventeen and robbed a store before he left town, it was then he chose the way of Cain.  Oh I, I went off and got ordained but Jim was still with me, I knew I had to find him again so I kept going west.  I did my work and looked for him, nearly gave up on seeing him until two weeks ago.  I wish things had been different, had ended differently," he said with remorse. </p><p>"Well, it's like you said, he sowed the wind and reaped the whirlwind. At least he did something good before he died," Clay said. </p><p>"I am thankful for that, yes. It's just this the first time in my life that I haven't been moving around looking for Jim.  Since I know where he is now and his body or his soul isn't going anywhere anymore," Malcom said.</p><p>"Well I hope you don't plan on leaving Tombstone. We need you here, and uh, I've grown used to the quiet you've brought to town during your services," Clay smiled.</p><p>Malcom smiled. "No, I feel at home at last.  I hope the Lord keeps me in Tombstone for a long while," he said.</p><p>"Well I'll certainly pray for that and I'll see you Sunday alright?" Clay said. He stood and headed for the door.</p><p>"You can be sure of it," Malcom grinned. He watched him go, he too would also pray for a long stay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Fight For A Fugitive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Missing scene for the ep Fight For A Fugitive.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 9, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris felt awful, he had never lied to Clay before and he hated doing it now.  But he knew in his gut that this man was innocent, and would lie and keep on lying, to give him a chance for freedom.  Justice had not been served and what was the law worth without it?  </p><p>When he was sitting in his office and Clay came in asking questions about the trial and what went on Harris tried to be cool.  It wasn't the first time Clay had asked him such things, but this time he spent more time looking at him and studying his reactions than listening to what answers he had to give.  It made Harris nervous and he avoided Clay's gaze as best he could, looking down at his papers, focusing on his pen, the scratches on his desk.</p><p>"Harris?" Clay asked.</p><p>Harris looked up hesitantly and their eyes met. He could see Clay's mind make up and his mood change on the spot.  He knew. He knew Harris was lying, and he was upset about it as Harris feared he would be.</p><p>Clay turned then and walked away, leaving the office without another word.</p><p>Harris sighed and rubbed his temples.  He could only hope that Clay would understand his reasons and forgive him later on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Rose of Rio Bravo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A missing scene from the ep Rose of Rio Bravo.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 10, 1886</p><p> </p><p>It was night in L.A. and Harris and Clay had gone up to their room after supper.  So far their search for Rose and her latest conquest hadn't turned up anything but they would keep trying.  </p><p>Harris lit the lamps in the room and Clay took off his hat and coat and laid back on the bed with a sigh.  Harris sat down on the edge of the bed and silently studied Clay's face.</p><p>"You've been awfully quiet during this trip.  Am that bad for company?" Harris asked.</p><p>Clay looked at him and smiled. "No.  I'm sorry, I guess I've just been thinking," he said. </p><p>"About Rose?" Harris asked.</p><p>"Yes," Clay responded.</p><p>"Would you like to talk about it?  It might help if you shared," Harris offered. </p><p>"Well, there's not much to tell.  I was a deputy down in Texas on the border, about our boy's age, Rose was brought in by my boss the sheriff.  He warned me not to get too close to her, but she was the first female prisoner I had ever dealt with and she was beautiful so I was easily taken in.  She seduced me, I was in love, and I thought she was too, but she was just using me to get free.  She had me convinced that she was innocent, so convinced that I let her go, but unlike junior I didn't go with her right away.  I was supposed to meet her later, only there was no later, she fled away, back across the border.  When I found out what she was, the hurt I felt… Well, it has stayed with me that lesson.  But I'm going to get her this time, I want to be the one that helps to put her away," Clay explained. </p><p>"And we will get her," Harris assured.</p><p>Clay smiled and took his hand. "We will."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Marked For Murder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Missing scene for the ep Marked For Murder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 11, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris had tried to go back to work after the incident in the saloon.  He couldn't believe someone would hire a gunman to kill him, it was very unnerving.  </p><p>Standing at his press with his apron on, he kept thinking about who might be behind this.  He rolled on ink and wiped his hands, a sudden hand on his shoulder caused him to jump a mile high.  The ink roller went flying off the table and landed somewhere behind him on the already messy floor.</p><p>"Hey, it's just me.  I thought you heard me come in.  I'm sorry I scared you," Clay said. He patted Harris's shoulder.</p><p>Harris took a moment to recover himself.  "Oh, Clay.  I'm sorry. I guess my mind is elsewhere."</p><p>"Yeah I stopped by to see if you had thought of anybody who might want you killed?" Clay asked. </p><p>"No.  But I have been thinking a lot about it," Harris said, stress showing on his face.</p><p>"Well, I want you to take it seriously but don't be afraid.  We'll figure this out, I'll take care of you," Clay said. Hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes.</p><p>Harris felt calmed and comforted by those words. His tension level went down and he managed to smile a little. "Alright."</p><p>Clay smiled and squeezed his shoulder before heading towards the door, he stopped and looked back before he left. "Oh and Harris?"</p><p>"Yes?" Harris asked. He had bent over to get his roller.</p><p>"Stay out of saloons," Clay smiled. He tipped his hat and walked out.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Gun Hostage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Missing scene for the ep Gun Hostage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 12, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris waited for his purchase to be tallied so he could pay and go about his day but the storekeeper seemed to be moving slowly.</p><p>"You mentioned the sheriff before, Mr. Editor.  You two see quite close," the man said. He put Harris's suspenders in a box for him.</p><p>"We are.  He's a good friend," Harris commented. </p><p>The storekeeper then wrote down the purchase and the amount.  "Just a friend is he?" he asked, probing.</p><p>Harris got his money out and paid, waiting for change. "You wouldn't be prying would you, Mr. Storekeeper?" </p><p>The man smiled and gave him his change and his package. "Of course not, Mr. Editor."</p><p>"I would hope not," Harris smiled and nodded before leaving for his office.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Hostage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A tag for the ep The Hostage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 13, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay paced in the hospital waiting room and Quint sat in a chair and shook his leg as they waited for word from the doctor on how Harris was.  He had seemed alright when they found him and did away with his captors, but on the ride back into town he had grown weak and tired.</p><p>The doctor came down the hall and Clay stopped and Quint stood up to greet him.</p><p>"How is he, doctor?" Clay asked.</p><p>"He'll be alright.  He has had some good knocks on the head though so I am going to keep him overnight to just make sure.  But he should be able to go home in the morning provided he rests for a day or two," Cunningham informed.</p><p>They two both breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>"Can we see him?" Quint asked.</p><p>"For a little while, he needs his rest," Cunningham said. He led them down the hall and to the last room on the right where Harris lay in bed.  Once they went in he shut the door behind them and went to check on some other patients. </p><p>Harris smiled at them. "It's good to see you again, I didn't know if you would be around before morning," he said.</p><p>"We've been waiting an hour for word from the doc.  We had to see you, make sure you're okay," Clay said. They had taken off their hats and he had his in hand.</p><p>"That was nice of you.  I want to thank you for risking your lives to save me.  I'll be forever grateful," Harris said.</p><p>"Oh well, you know, the job and all. Our duty," Quint smiled.</p><p>Harris smiled back. "I know.  But I thank you anyway," he said.</p><p>"You're welcome," Quint said.</p><p>"Quint? Why don't you head on back to the office and mind the store?  I'm going to stay the night with our boy here, make sure nothing happens to him," Clay said. </p><p>"Sure thing, boss.  Sleep good, Harris," Quint said.  He put his hat on and left.</p><p>Clay sat down in a chair by the bed and put his hat on the bedside table.</p><p>"You don't have to stay the night, Clay.  I'll be alright," Harris insisted. </p><p>Clay reached under the covers and took Harris's hand.  "I want to.  You gave me an awful scare, Harris.  I've never been more worried in my life," he confessed.</p><p>"I'm sorry.  I wasn't very good at trying to get away, I was scared too I'm ashamed to admit," Harris said, dropping his head.</p><p>"There's no shame in fear.  I would have been afraid too," Clay said.</p><p>"I doubt that somehow," Harris gave a small smile.</p><p>"I would, I can assure you.  But regardless, you don't have to be afraid anymore.  I won't allow that to happen again.  So you just lay back there and rest easy, I'll keep an eye on things," Clay said.</p><p>Harris smiled warmly.  "Alright," he said. He closed his eyes to slip off to sleep, still holding to Clay's hand.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Return of Kansas Joe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A missing scene for the ep The Return of Kansas Joe.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 14, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris was honored to host the territorial governor in his home.  He and the lieutenant governor as well as Clay were sitting up late in the living room talking about the governor's visit, though the man himself was about ready for bed.</p><p>"You know Harris, I just love the speech you wrote for me. Thank you again for writing it on short notice," Armstrong said.</p><p>Harris smiled. "You're welcome.  It was an honor to write it for you," he said. Sitting his coffee cup down.</p><p>"You know, I would love for you to come back to Prescott with us. Become my full time speech writer, and I'm serious about that!" Armstrong offered.</p><p>Harris was taken aback. "Oh well...I'm flattered," he said.</p><p>Armstrong stood, causing everyone else to stand. "Don't tell me no.  Please sleep on it first," he smiled.</p><p>Harris smiled back. "I will," he agreed.</p><p>"Good, good.  Now I'm going to bed, gentlemen," Armstrong announced. </p><p>"I'll go too," the lieutenant governor said.</p><p>"Have a good night's rest," Clay told them.</p><p>Clay and Harris sat back down after they left the room, sitting side by side on the couch.</p><p>"You wouldn't actually go with the governor would you?" Clay asked, concerned.</p><p>"Well, it is a marvelous opportunity.  To have your finger on the vein of what goes on in the territory, helping to make history in the governor's mansion," Harris said.</p><p>"But you wouldn't actually go would you?  Because I couldn't let you.  I'd have to take the marshal's job in Prescott just to be close to you," Clay said, putting an arm around Harris.</p><p>Harris grinned. "It certainly is wonderful to be wanted by the two best men in the territory," he said.</p><p>"Just remember when you're considering that offer that I want you for more than just speech writing," Clay smirked.</p><p>"Oh, sheriff," Harris grinned.</p><p>Clay dimmed the lamp and pulled Harris in for the first of many kisses that night.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. No Back Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 15, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay sat brooding at his desk, there was a funeral going on at Boot Hill and he was the cause of it.  The man was a robber and had assaulted an elderly woman at the general store this was true, but they weren't charges he would have hanged for.  </p><p>Harris came in, he had been concerned about the sheriff the past few days.  Ever since he had come back into town with the body of the robber.  He came through the gate and sat down on the corner of the desk.</p><p>"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. </p><p>Clay sighed. "Yeah… It's just an awful thing to kill a man, Harris," he said.</p><p>Harris looked on him sorrowful. "I don't know how you feel, so I won't pretend I do.  But from what you said you couldn't help having to kill him.  He would have killed you," he said.</p><p>"I would have.  Still, I keep thinking about it.  Quint had gone down another trail and I had no back up, if he had been there maybe…" Clay pondered aloud.</p><p>"Maybe Mayers would have killed you both.  You have no way of knowing either way.  The fact that you have remorse says a lot about you not only as a person but as a lawman.  You're a good man, Clay," Harris said.</p><p>Clay gave a slight smile.  "Thank you, Harris.  You mean so much to me and I thank you for your kind words.  This will just take me a little while to get over," he said. </p><p>Harris nodded and took his hand in support.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A special shout out to my best friend Kay for the idea to go with this prompt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 16, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Harris and Quint were playing a game of cribbage in Clay's office one rainy afternoon.  The sheriff himself was out in the weather making rounds.  </p><p>"I'm ahead you know," Harris commented with a smile.</p><p>"I know, I know," Quint said. He was having a run of bad luck.</p><p>"That means you owe me money, you know?" Harris boasted.</p><p>"I know," Quint chuckled.</p><p>They finished their game and Quint lost again.  He put his cards on the desk in a sigh.</p><p>"I think I'd better quit before I lose my whole bank account," he said.</p><p>Harris laughed. "That might be wise.  Say, are you going to go to that dance at the Cosmopolitan Saturday night?  It seems to be a great social event," he said.</p><p>"Nah," Quint said.</p><p>"Why not?  Hasn't anybody asked you?" Harris asked with a grin.</p><p>"As a matter of fact no one has.  But it wouldn't matter anyway, I don't know how to dance," Quint shrugged.</p><p>Harris looked shocked. "Really?  Well there is nothing to it, I can show you the way," he said. He stood and held a hand out to Quint.</p><p>"Oh, I don't know, Harris," Quint hesitated.</p><p>"Come on, I promise it's easy," Harris beckoned with his hand.</p><p>Quint considered a moment. "Well, alright," he finally agreed.</p><p>"Good. Now I'll lead and you follow.  Don't worry if you step on my feet," Harris said.  He took Quint's hands and they started a fumbling waltz around the office floor in front of the desk.</p><p>After a few clumsy rounds Quint's movements smoothed out and they were twirling rather gracefully in the small space.  Neither one noticed the door coming open and Clay looking surprised as he stepped in.</p><p>"You're doing better now.  You just need a little more practice and you'll be the envy of the dance floor," Harris praised.</p><p>"So this is what you two do while I'm out working?" Clay spoke up.</p><p>They looked over startled by his voice, still holding on to one another. </p><p>"Oh… hello, Clay.  We were just…" Harris trailed off.</p><p>"Yeah I see what you were just.  Do you mind if I cut in?  I'd like to get this rain slick off and sit down at my desk," Clay grinned.</p><p>"Oh sure," Quint said.</p><p>They scrambled out of the way so Clay get by and cast off his wet coat and sit down.</p><p>"Uh… I'll think I'll go back over to my office," Harris said. Turning for the door.</p><p>"I think I'll go with you!" Quint said quickly. He grabbed his hat, not wanting to face the questions his boss might have.</p><p>"Good. There is more space in my office, we can practice more," Harris said.</p><p>Clay laughed and shook his head as they beat it out the door to the rain.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Judgement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 17, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay had ridden to Yuma Prison to take one Yawkey Hammers to Prescott for the governor to make a decision on if the former outlaw would be pardoned.  The prisoner was brought along because if he did not receive a pardon he would in the very least get a commuted sentence which would be effective immediately on the governor's signature.  This all taking place due to new evidence in the case.</p><p>Clay had been offered to stay at the governor's mansion once his prisoner was safe in the local jail.  He gladly accepted the offer as he and Governor Armstrong were good friends.  It was late when he got there and he wasn't able to take dinner with the governor as planned, but he was told that the man was still up and in his study.  The aid had been given instructions to bring Clay to him once he had gotten things put away in his room.  Clay was shown into the study where the governor was sitting at his desk in a robe and pajamas, he smiled when he saw his visitor. </p><p>"Hello, Clay.  It's good to see you again.  How is Harris doing?" he asked.</p><p>Clay smiled. "It's good to see you too, governor.  Harris is fine, he sends his regards.  Looks like you're burning the midnight oil tonight," he commented.</p><p>Armstrong sighed. "Yes.  I couldn't sleep.  I'm sorry to keep you from yours but I needed to talk to you about this Hammers vase," he said.</p><p>Clay sat on a couch close to the desk. "Of course.  Please, go ahead," he urged. </p><p>"Well, I am just questioning my judgement on what to do.  I have talked to my advisers, but I wanted to talk to you especially since you are so close to the case.  Having arrested Hammers and the rest of the gang of Wells Fargo robbers you have actually been around these men and I haven't.  We know that Hammers was not the leader of the gang, and that the new evidence tells that he really wasn't that instrumental in the robberies at all.  But he still participated, he still let people be killed.  Does he deserve a full pardon to begin his life fresh?  Would he do that again?" Armstrong asked.</p><p>"That's a hard question.  Who can say what a man will do?  I think only God knows that.  But I can tell you that unlike the others, Hammers did show remorse before the trial, he knows that he made mistakes.  As far as letting people be killed, well, I don't think he could have stopped it, not without being killed himself which would have probably spurred more people getting killed," Clay explained.</p><p>"I had thought that too.  In fact I had made up my mind on a pardon when I first read the case with the new evidence.  But I started thinking about if he would turn back to that way again and would I be endangering the people by letting him go and start over?" Armstrong said, his face burdened.</p><p>"In my opinion, I think he will be fine.  He has a farm and a wife and son that are eager to get him back.  I think they will help keep him straight," Clay expressed.</p><p>The governor thought a moment or two.  "Yes, I believe you're right. I will go with my original judgement and grant a full pardon."</p><p>Clay smiled. "I know Mrs. Hammers and her son will be happy to hear that," he said.</p><p>"Well, I won't detain you any longer.  You need your rest and now perhaps I also can get some," Armstrong smiled.</p><p>Clay stood and walked to the doors of the study, stopping short of going out.  "You know governor, I think it's the mark of a good leader to question your judgment and seek advice for the best answer to problems," he said.</p><p>Armstrong smiled fondly. "Well thank you."</p><p>Clay smiled back. "Good night, Roger," he wished.</p><p>"Good night, Clay," Armstrong bid and turned down the lamp.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Lover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 18, 1886</p><p> </p><p>It was sometime after one in the morning and Clay had woken up to turn over.  The only problem with that was that Harris was nestled up against him, fast asleep, warm body against Clay's staving off the cool of the desert night that had settled in the room.  Clay smiled and lightly caressed his face with the back of his hand, thinking of the beautiful expressions that had been on it only a few hours before.</p><p>Clay cherished the nights he got to spend making love to Harris.  He knew exactly what he liked and where to touch and kiss him for the best responses.  He knew his lover's body better than his own, he knew Harris inside and out, how to calm him when he was anxious, what he liked to eat, how particular he was in keeping the house neat.  Harris in turn, knew Clay and how to care for him, knew things about him that no one else did, knew him deep like only a lover can.  Their relationship was a happy one most of the time and for that Clay was grateful.</p><p>Harris began to stir and Clay dropped his hand just in time for his eyes to open.  "You awake?  Everything alright?" he asked. His eyes sleepy.</p><p>Clay grinned. "Everything is fine.  I love you," he said fondly.</p><p>"I love you too.  What time is it?" Harris asked tiredly.</p><p>Clay strained his eyes through the darkness to see the clock on the wall.  "Fifteen till two," he reported.</p><p>"Ugh," Harris groaned. He got a little closer and buried his face in Clay's chest.</p><p>Clay smiled and put his arms around him.  Closing his eyes he guessed he didn't have to turn over afterall.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Leverage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 19, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay walked out of the back of the jail and closed the door with a sigh.  </p><p>"Still won't talk?" Quint asked.  He sat at his desk playing around with a deck of cards.</p><p>"No.  I guess he figures his crooked attorney will get him out of it and he can go pick the gold up himself," Clay said.</p><p>One Samuel McCabe had single handedly robbed the west bound stage of a box of gold coins worth five thousand dollars.  He had got away by shooting both the driver and shotgun rider, fortunately only wounding them.  Clay and Quint had captured him two days ago, held up in a cave due to rain, ever since they had been trying to get him to talk.</p><p>"Ratcliffe is just sly enough to get it done too," Quint said.</p><p>"I know.  That's what worries me.  If only he would just talk!  I've told him it would go easier on him if he would," Clay said. He threw a pencil across his desk in frustration. </p><p>"Well, as long as he thinks he's got an ace in the hole with Ratcliffe, I doubt it if he will," Quint lamented.</p><p>The front door opened and a young, tall man appeared.  He wore mule skinner boots over his pants and a buckskin jacket with  floppy black hat, he carried a rifle on his arm.</p><p>"Well, hello Willie.  It's been awhile. You got trouble out at your place?" Clay asked.</p><p>Willie Mulgrew was a young remittance man who had come to Tombstone from England two years ago.  He liked to prospect though he had plenty of money to be able to not do anything at all.</p><p>"Of a sort, I suppose.  I was digging around my claim this morning and my spade hit upon something hard that wouldn't move with leverage.  At least, not at first, you know how hard the sand can get after a hard rain hits it? Well, I kept at it until I got it out and to my surprise it wasn't a rock.  Unfortunately I found gold that I can't keep for myself," Willie explained. </p><p>Clay got up immediately with Quint at his heels.  "Did you find a box of gold coins?" he asked.</p><p>"I did indeed.  I loaded them in my wagon and headed straight here to the high sheriff of Tombstone," Willie smiled.</p><p>They went out to the wagon and Quint flipped the lid up on the box to reveal the glittering gold inside.</p><p>Clay hit Willie on the shoulder with a grin.  "The high sheriff of Tombstone thanks you.  Now Quint and I have some leverage of our own," he said.</p><p>"Glad to be of help," Willie said.  He and Quint carried the box inside.</p><p>Clay followed Willie out and watched him get on his wagon again.  "We'll need you for the trial," he informed.</p><p>"Well, you know where I'll be.  Wish me luck," Willie said.</p><p>"Luck?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Yes.  Luck in that I can find gold that I can keep next time," Willie smiled.</p><p>Clay grinned. "Good luck, then," he said. He waved as the man drove out of town.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. A Lone Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 20, 1886</p><p> </p><p>A lone moon in the sky, no stars, no clouds.  </p><p>Clay rested his weary body by a fire on the outskirts of the desert, other travelers might have pushed on through the night for fear but not Clay.  His senses were keen and he knew the area, there were no present dangers so he could relax. Though he was a light sleeper when he needed to be so he could wake up on a dime if he heard something. </p><p>He stirred up the fire and added a stick to it to make it higher, keep the howling coyotes away.  He set the coffee pot off the fire and got his saddle blanket to cover over his legs with and stretched his long legs out.  He put his head on his saddle for a pillow, looking over to make sure his horse was still tied before closing his eyes in the cool of the night.</p><p>It could be hard times on the trail- but not always.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Hustle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 21, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay paced the office floor, he was restless, he had been for nigh on a week now.  He wished he could talk to Harris, but things hadn't been too well between them lately.  When the door opened his head snapped up, hoping perhaps, but it was only Quint.</p><p>"Oh it's you," Clay said, disappointed. </p><p>Quint smiled. "Yeah, only awful me," he chuckled.</p><p>Clay smiled a little. "I didn't mean it that way I-"</p><p>"I know. It's alright.  I was uh, just with Harris out there," Quint said. He came to sit at his desk.</p><p>Clay looked to the window and then at Quint with interest. "Yeah?  What did he say?" he asked eagerly. </p><p>"He wanted me to pass along some information. Said he had a source that told him there was a hustle going on down at The Oriental and that you might want to check it out," Quint said.</p><p>Clay's face fell.  "Is that all he said?" </p><p>"Yep.  I'm sorry, boss.  I know this fightin' and bein' apart is taking its toll on you," Quint said.</p><p>"It's giving me fits!  But oh well.  I'll go check it out, you mind the store, huh?" Clay asked. He put on his hat.</p><p>"I will.  And if it helps any, when he said your name his voice softened," Quint said.</p><p>Clay smiled. "It does some.  I'll see you later," he said.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Clay took his trip to The Oriental and was told by both the bartender and the owner that there hadn't been any kind of gambling going on there in the past week.  Nor were there any strangers hanging around or trouble with the girls or anything out of the ordinary that Clay could find.  He walked outside and stopped, thinking, it then hit him what was probably going on and he headed straight to the Epitaph office.</p><p>Harris was putting in type with his back to the door when Clay entered.  He had been with the sheriff long enough to know his step so he didn't turn around to speak.  </p><p>"Hello, sheriff.  What can I do for you?" he asked.</p><p>Clay pursed his lips and threw his hat down on the corner of Harris's desk before walking over to stand by him.</p><p>"Well, you can start by not believing everything your sources say.  There's nothing going on down at The Oriental, in fact, the only hustle is the one you're pulling to get me to come over here," Clay said with confidence. </p><p>Harris stood up straight.  "Why that's absurd!" he said.</p><p>Clay smirked. "Why yes it.  You could have just said, 'honey, would you come over? It's time we talked.'  Because it is, you know?" he said.</p><p>"I know.  I'm sorry I sent you on a wild goose chase, I tried to tell Quint I wanted to talk to you. It just  wouldn't come out," Harris sighed and looked down.</p><p>Clay grinned. "Well, it will all be alright- if- you forgive me?" he asked.</p><p>Harris looked into his eyes and grinned back. "I forgive you.  Will you forgive me?" he asked.</p><p>"I will on one condition. Let me take you out tonight?" Clay asked.</p><p>Harris beamed. "It's a deal!" he said.</p><p>Clay took Harris's face in his hands and kissed him.  He looked at him with fond eyes and a smirk on his lips when he pulled away.  "After dinner I'll hustle you back to my place and we'll make up like a couple should," he said in a low tone.</p><p>"I'll be looking forward to it," Harris said.</p><p>Clay took him by the chin and kissed him again, he then turned and got his hat to leave.</p><p>"I'll pick you up at seven," he said.</p><p>"I'll be waiting," Harris promised. He followed Clay to the door and watched him as he walked back across the street.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. My Sister</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 22, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay had gone by Harris's office to have a chat with him one late afternoon.  It surprised him to find it closed up tight, no sign on the door or anything.  He felt worry creep into his heart even though there was probably nothing wrong, he made a beeline for Harris's house.  He knocked and it was several minutes before there was an answer. </p><p>"Oh, hello, Clay," Harris said.  He had an apron on and his sleeves rolled up.</p><p>Clay took him in a moment and pushed his hat back.  "Well, what's this about? I got worried when you weren't in your office," he said.</p><p>"Well, I got a telegram from my sister.  She's coming for a visit and I dropped everything to come home and clean," Harris said. He stepped out of the doorway so Clay could come in.</p><p>"Oh… Anne, right?" Clay asked.</p><p>Harris picked up a dust rag and began dusting tables and the desk in the living room.  "Yes. That's right. When I got the telegram I came right home," he said. </p><p>"She coming tonight?" Clay asked.</p><p>"No. The ten o'clock stage tomorrow morning," Harris said. Dropping to his knees to clean the chair legs.</p><p>"Well, it's just your sister.  You don't have to panic over her coming surely?" Clay asked. </p><p>"Clay, my sister is a well to do lady in Tucson.  I don't want her to think ill of me for having a dirty house or not being decorated well.  So I want to freshen up and make a good impression," Harris said.</p><p>"I guess that means you don't want to go to that play at the Birdcage tonight?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Not tonight.  I'm afraid the only way you'll be able to spend time with me in the next twelve hours is to grab a mop and help clean up," Harris said.</p><p>Clay grinned. "Well Mr. Editor, where's your mop?" </p><p>Harris grinned up at him and then stood. "I'll get it for you," he said.</p><p>So they cleaned the house from top to bottom, changing linens and sheets, beating out rugs and airing curtains.  Not getting finished until sometime late in the night, then falling asleep together on the couch.</p><p>When morning came they went out for a quick breakfast and then went their separate ways.  Harris went home and had a bath, putting on his nicest suit.  His sister hardly ever came to see him, it was usually the other way around.  They weren't very close since Anne had married two years ago, but her husband, Garrett, was away on a business trip and she didn't want to be alone while he was gone.  Once he was ready he left for the stage depot but when he got close he saw Clay also waiting there. He wore a three piece suit and smiled when he saw Harris coming his way.</p><p>"Clay?  What are you doing here?" Harris asked, puzzled.</p><p>"Well after all that work she's no longer just your sister, she's my sister too.  I want to see her face when she steps in that house and if she isn't impressed I'm going to arrest her!" Clay said with a smile. </p><p>Harris laughed and patted his arm as they waited for the Tucson stage to pull in.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 23, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay had stepped into the jail from the crowded street, Governor Armstrong was set to make a speech on his reelection campaign.  Harris was at Clay's desk touching up the speech, he didn't raise his head when the door opened. Quint was listening as the Lieutenant Governor went over his.  Clay smiled and walked passed them back into the cells where he found the governor standing just inside one, trying to fix his tie in a mirror they had attached to the bars.</p><p>Clay went in and stepped in front of him to fix it himself, when he was done he patted the governor's shoulders and smiled.</p><p>"There you go."</p><p>Armstrong smiled. "Thank you, Clay.  Now I just wish it would hurry and be two o'clock," he said.</p><p>Clay grinned. "You nervous?" he asked.</p><p>"Yes! I always get nervous before a speech.  Every time is like the first time for me," Armstrong smiled. </p><p>Clay leaned back against the bars and crossed his arms. "Well, I have it on back patting, beer buying, good time authority that you'll easily win Tombstone and the county," he informed.</p><p>Armstrong smiled. "Then I'm a shoo in!" he chuckled.  He fell silent for a moment and then spoke again.</p><p>"You know, when I was a young man, about your age, and I left Ohio for the west I never thought I would become the territorial governor of Arizona.  It wasn't my dream then, not when I left the day after my wedding with my first wife, we joined a wagon train heading for California."</p><p>"What was your dream back then?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Well, I was going to become a full partner in a law firm one of my law school mates opened in Los Angeles.  It was going to be a good life, something to build on, a nice city for my wife to live in and raise our future children, we had so many plans.  But the west is idealized in the east, a promised land flowing with milk and honey, riches and glory, the fulfillment of every dream that could possibly be imagined at the foot of where the sunsets.  But you have to put in your time in the desert first, just like the children of Israel did.  No one tells you about how cruel it is, how violent.  That only select places have law that is enforced and only select places where a lady could cross the street alone, even in the daytime," he said, looking towards the window.</p><p>Clay looked at him curiously.  "You ran into trouble before you made it to California?" </p><p>"Oh, yes. Yes.  We had stopped in Prescott for supplies, it was a small town then, not much there.  Mary, my wife, was putting things in the wagon while I was paying inside.  A man took her by the arm and had intended to...force her...when she screamed he shot and killed her.  When I came out I…  Well the sheriff arrested him and there were witnesses, but the judiciary had been put in place by the local outlaw gang and he was set free.  I didn't go on to Los Angeles, I stayed right there, found a place and hung out my shingle.  Determined to bring some real justice to this part of the west, and it was that pursuance that led me to my current dream which is to become and remain, God willing, the territorial governor of Arizona." </p><p>He turned to look at Clay with a small smile. "I've been giving a speech haven't I?" he asked.</p><p>Clay grinned. "Noo. You've just been giving me another reason to believe that you're still the right man for the job," he said. He squeezed his shoulder.</p><p>"Well, I have one vote secured at least," Armstrong smiled.</p><p>Clay grinned and looked at his watch. "It's two o'clock now too," he said.</p><p>"Thank goodness! Let's go," Armstrong said.</p><p>Clay gladly followed the man, and he knew others would too.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Agreement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 24, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay sat at his desk doing paperwork one afternoon in late September.  He hated being behind the desk, but this work needed to be done.  He looked up and smiled when Harris entered the room, he looked fetching in a dark suit and a new hat.</p><p>"Well, what beauty hits my eye this afternoon?" he said.</p><p>Harris smiled. "Thank you, kind sheriff," he said.</p><p>"You're a wonderful distraction, Harris.  What causes you to be dressed so nice today?" Clay asked, putting down his pen.</p><p>"Oh, a town council meeting," Harris said. He came to stand beside Clay's safe.</p><p>"What did the city fathers discuss today?" Clay grinned. </p><p>"Oh nothing much, the upcoming budget meeting, the growing commerce, things like that," Harris said.</p><p>"Dull government business, huh?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Mostly. Clare Johnson, the president of the ladies auxiliary club, did come up to me afterwards.  She asked me if you would be interested in speaking at their next meeting about your methods of law enforcement," Harris said.</p><p>"The ladies auxiliary club is interested in law enforcement?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Yes.  Well they're smart ladies, Clay.  They're interested in what goes on in town and how things are done.  So I...I told them you would come," Harris said, looking down and hesitantly looking over at Clay.</p><p>Clay looked shocked. "You- what?!  I can't leave here and go off to a ladies meeting! Besides I don't want to go to a ladies meeting! I mean them no disrespect, I wouldn't go to a men's meeting either," he fussed.</p><p>"They're nice ladies, Clay-"</p><p>"I don't care how nice they are.  You go and find Mrs. Johnson and tell her I can't come," Clay said. He picked up his pen again and went back to his paperwork. </p><p>"But they're looking so forward to you being there!  Besides, I thought we could make an agreement," Harris said.</p><p>"An agreement?  What kind of an agreement?" Clay asked.</p><p>"Well, you do this for me and I'll do something for you. Anything you want," Harris said. </p><p>Clay looked back at him with a smirk. "Anything?"</p><p>"Anything," Harris confirmed. </p><p>"In that case, I'll do it.  When is their next meeting?" Clay asked. </p><p>Harris smiled. "Oh thank you, Clay!  It's next Tuesday at noon."</p><p>"Alright.  But you remember our agreement and have yourself rested and ready for next Tuesday night," Clay said.</p><p>"You can count on it, sheriff," Harris said with a wink.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The Coffin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 25, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay was making the rounds for the first time that day, it was a cloudy day and there didn't seem to be much going on.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the reverend Malcom Tuttle coming towards him looking troubled, he stopped and waited for him.</p><p>"What's wrong?" he asked. He knew just by the reverend's face that something had to be.</p><p>"Well, maybe nothing, but… three men just came up to the church and asked me where Boot Hill was.  I told them, I noticed they had a coffin in the back of their wagon and asked who had passed.  They said it was their uncle, that he had been sick, well I offered to have the funeral, to bury him in the church yard.  But they were adamant about having a family only service and said he had been a bad man in life and Boot Hill was where he ought to be laid to rest.  Now they might be perfectly honest, but I got a funny feeling so I thought I should tell you," Malcom said. </p><p>Clay thought for a moment.  "Were they men you had seen before?"</p><p>"Never," Malcom said.</p><p>"Alright, well, you were right to tell me.  I'll check on it right now," Clay said.</p><p>"Do you want me to go with you?" Malcom asked.</p><p>Clay smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "No. You just go say a prayer for me, I might need it," he said.</p><p>"I always pray for you, sheriff," Malcom said.</p><p>"That's very comforting, Malcom. Thank you.  I'll let you know," Clay said. He turned to go for his horse.</p><p>"Be careful," Malcom called.</p><p>***</p><p>It wasn't long before Clay made it out to Boot Hill, he saw the three men just finishing digging a grave on the backside of the cemetery.  He walked over to them and they stopped to look at him.</p><p>"Hello, my name is Clay Hollister.  I'm  sheriff of Tombstone.  I ran into the Reverend Tuttle on my morning rounds, he told me about you fellas.  I rode out just to make sure you found the cemetery alright and see if you needed any help," he said.  He looked at each one of them and found their faces somewhat familiar, he knew he had seen them on wanted posters before.</p><p>"Well that was real nice of you, sheriff.  But as you can see we found it just fine and we don't need any help," one of them said. He seemed to be the oldest of the three.</p><p>"You sure you won't need help with the coffin?  Getting it into the grave?" Clay asked. He got a good look at it.</p><p>"We can lift Pa down by ourselves," said another one of the men.</p><p>Clay narrowed his eyes and drew both of his guns. "Take those guns out and drop 'em easy!" he ordered.</p><p>"What's this about?!" the youngest said.  They did as they were told but they looked nervous.</p><p>"You told the reverend it was your uncle.  A member of your family dies, you're not about to forget who he was to you.  Plus that coffin doesn't have any nails in it to keep the lid secure.  If I'm right about what's in there you wouldn't have left it buried long, just long enough for things to cool off," Clay said.  He moved forward to take a look, the three looked defeated, he didn't think they would fight.</p><p>Clay motioned for the man still in the wagon to open the lid, when he did he revealed stacks of money.</p><p>"Just as I thought.  You were the three that robbed the money wagon coming from Denver to Prescott.  Where did you get the coffin?" Clay asked. He slowly moved to his horse to get rope to tie them up with.</p><p>The older man sighed. "We stole it from an undertaker in Larabee. We were sure this would work!  After a few weeks we could come back for it, nobody visits Boot Hill!" he said.</p><p>"Well, boys, I think what it all boils down to is an important lesson," Clay said, as he tied them.</p><p>"What's that?" the youngest said.</p><p>"If you're dying or going to Yuma prison- you can't take it with you," Clay smirked.</p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Awakening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 26, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay, Quint and Harris were having a little dinner party for Clay's former deputy, Lee, and Nellie Cashman at the french restaurant in town.  Lee and Nellie were due to be married in just two days so they decided to have them a little send off party.</p><p>It was later in the evening and the restaurant was nearly empty, they were laughing and having a good time at their back corner table.  </p><p>"So tell us, when did you know she was the one, Lee?" Harris asked.</p><p>Lee took Nellie's hand and smiled at her.  "Well, one day I was eating at The Russ House and saw her talking to a family at a table.  I really wasn't used to seeing her, only hearing about her, and her beauty struck me.  I knew I had to talk to her, she made a stop at every table and when she got to mine asked if she would sit down and chat," he said.</p><p>"I sat there with him for four hours!  I had no idea that much time had passed, it sure didn't feel like it," Nellie smiled.</p><p>"And while we were talking that first time I suddenly just felt like I was seeing the world for the first time.  Just like everything was new and fresh and exciting, like she made the world brighter.  I knew then she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with," Lee grinned at her.</p><p>"That's wonderful," Quint smiled.</p><p>"It sure is!" Harris grinned.</p><p>Clay took Harris's hand under the table.  "Well, I can speak for all of us when I say that we wish you all the happiness in the world," he smiled. He lifted his glass in a toast.</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Laden Rain Clouds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>September 27, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Laden rain clouds in a gray sky, there was a storm coming in from over the mountains.  Harris stood on the porch of an abandoned miner's cabin and watched it come, he was out with Clay and Quint on a posse.  An escaped prisoner was on the run and had been stealing across the country side, he had beaten up a few people in his wake.</p><p>Clay came out, concerned about why he was still out there, Quint was making supper and the smell came out the door.</p><p>"Harris?  You okay?" he asked, stepping up behind him.</p><p>"Oh yes, I was just pondering.  There is something about rainy weather that makes me think about things," Harris said. He was leaning against a post and could now see the foggy mist of rain growing closer.</p><p>"Quint was just saying it made him sleepy.  But it puts me in the mood for other things," Clay grinned.</p><p>Harris could feel him resting against him from behind.  "Well that will have to wait, sheriff.  We have to capture this prisoner first," he smiled.</p><p>"Well, I don't think it'll be much longer," Clay said. </p><p>"I hope not," Harris said.</p><p>After a few seconds silence Clay put his arms around Harris from behind. "What does the rain make you ponder about?" he asked.</p><p>"Oh, life.  And you," Harris said.</p><p>"What about me?" Clay asked.</p><p>The rain had reached them and was beating down on the roof of the porch above them.  A cool wind hit them with a spray of rain and it thundered in the distance. </p><p>"Just that, even out on a posse in miserable weather my life is so much better with you," Harris said. He leaned his head back so he could see Clay, who smiled fondly and kissed him.</p><p>"Supper's ready!" Quint called.</p><p>Clay took Harris's hand and they went inside, shutting out the rain.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Nice Day For A Hangin'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I hadn't intended today's prompt to follow yesterday's but here we are.   I also took some inspiration from the movie The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly for this one.</p>
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    <p>September 28, 1886</p><p> </p><p>"Might as well come out, Hollister!  If you don't, your boy is a goner!" </p><p>Quint had his hands tied and sat on his horse, the noose around his neck tightened with each shifting hoof.  The escaped prisoner they had been hunting and taken him by surprise when he left the miner's cabin to get water from the well out back.  Now the angry and desperate man threatened to hang him if Clay and Harris didn't surrender all their weapons and come out.</p><p>"What are we going to do, Clay?" Harris asked.  They were staked out at two different windows in the back bedroom of the cabin.</p><p>"Well, Jenkins thinks we won't shoot because Quint's horse might shy and take off.  But I think I can hit the rope so he and the horse can take off," Clay said.</p><p>"'You think'?  But Clay, if you miss it will hang Quint for sure!" Harris said.</p><p>"I know that!  But if we don't do something he'll be hung anyway!" Clay said.  His voice grew loud with frustration. </p><p>"Alright. I trust you, and I know Quint does too," Harris said.</p><p>"I know I'm a good shot and that tree isn't that far away.  With the rifle I think I can do it," Clay said. He checked his rifle for ammunition. </p><p>"Okay.  What do you want me to do?" Harris asked, looking over at him.</p><p>"Get a bead on Jenkins and fire at him right when I aim for the rope," Clay instructed.</p><p>"Where?" Harris asked.</p><p>"Anywhere you can get a bullet.  Even if you have to kill him," Clay said.</p><p>Harris nodded and waited for Clay to be ready.  </p><p>Clay put the rifle up and took a deep breath hoping to calm his fast beating heart.  He didn't look away as he nodded for Harris to get ready.  </p><p>"Now."</p><p>At that instant they both fired, one bullet hitting the rope,  Quint and his horse taking off, the other hitting Jenkins in the chest.  He fell like dead weight to the ground.</p><p>Clay and Harris went running for the front door, Quint had jumped from his horse and was laying by the porch.  Clay helped him and looked at him all over for damage, he loosened to noose.</p><p>"You alright?" he asked, looking him in the eyes.</p><p>Quint nodded and smiled. "Yeah.  Scared outta ten years growth but alright," he answered.</p><p>Harris grinned and started to free his hands.</p><p>Clay went around to the back and got on his knees to check Jenkins.  Harris had hit him close to the heart and he was bleeding rapidly, Clay knew there was nothing he could do and Jenkins would never make it back to town.</p><p>"I know...I'm a goner," he choked out.</p><p>"Why did you have to pull this? You weren't going to spend that much time in jail," Clay said.</p><p>"Been in jail...before.  Wasn't going…'gain," Jenkins was breathing hard, coughing.</p><p>"Hated enough to die instead?" Clay asked.</p><p>Jenkins barely nodded 'yes'. "Only got one...regret… too bad...deputy didn't...didn't die too.  Nice day...for a hangin'."  His eyes suddenly grew wide as if from fear and he gave a strangled gasp before his head lolled to the side, lifeless.</p><p>Clay took a deep breath and frowned, he closed Jenkins eyes.  There were some things he would never understand.</p>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Raven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The conclusion of this scene as well as this series will be tomorrow.</p>
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    <p>September 29, 1886</p><p> </p><p>Clay rode alone and with a determined purpose to a ranch south of town.  He knew what he was going to do wouldn't be easy but he had to do it.  Harris had been kidnapped by a band of renegade whites and Mexicans, he had written editorials recently of their ruthlessness and cruelty.  The worst of both sides of the border in one group, led by a young man known as the Raven.  They had come into town and set fire to the Epitaph and taken Harris, throwing a rock with a message on it through the sheriff's office window, saying if the town wanted their editor back they would empty out the bank vault for them. </p><p> That was three days ago and the town had been given that much time until sundown and now Clay was down to his last option- confronting the Raven's father about his son.  It wouldn't be easy because he knew the family, being friends with the father and even with the Raven himself when he had gone by the name Ramone Sanchez.</p><p>Clay rode up to the large ranch house and dismounted, knocking on the door.  The butler answered and let him in, leading him to the study where the man in his late fifties stood in front of a bookshelf. He turned and smiled when he saw Clay.</p><p>"Clay! It is good to see you!  Would you like a drink?" he asked.</p><p>"No, Mr. Sanchez.  This isn't a social call," Clay said.</p><p>"It isn't?" the man asked. He tried to smile but there was fear in his eyes.</p><p>"You know good and well it isn't.  Where's Ramone, Mr. Sanchez?  Where's the Raven?" Clay asked. Looking intensely into his eyes.</p><p>Sanchez looked away, he couldn't bear the gaze.  "What makes you think he's here?"</p><p>"You mean besides the way you're acting right now?  The facts that I have checked everywhere else and that I know he hasn't crossed the border.  If he had the Mexican authorities would have wired me, so he has to be on this property somewhere.  It would make it easier on all of you if you would tell me," Clay said.</p><p>Sanchez looked into his eyes pleading.  "You've got to understand, he's really a good boy!"</p><p>Clay looked at him hard.  "The only things I understand right now are that he and his band of outlaws have burned a business to the ground, kidnapped an innocent man and want every last cent in the bank of Tombstone by six o'clock this evening!  Now that leaves me about three hours so you better start talking!"</p><p>Sanchez broke down in tears.  "I'm sorry!  I'm so sorry!"</p><p>Clay felt sorry for him but there wasn't time to express it now. "Please, Mr. Sanchez, please.  Where is Ramone?" he asked again.</p><p>Sanchez wiped his face.  "Come, I will show you," he said.</p><p>Clay felt just a tiny bit relieved, it was too soon yet, for the full of the feeling, there was still getting Harris back- alive.</p>
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<a name="section0030"><h2>30. End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I can't believe this is over! I have had such a great time writing these!  Thank you to everyone who read and liked this story.</p>
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    <p>September 30, 1886</p><p> </p><p>There was a posse waiting for them that Clay had instructed to hold back until he got to the ranch himself.  Once they were all together Mr. Sanchez led them to a line shack on his property, as soon as they were in sight of it the fighting started.</p><p>After about forty minutes of intense fighting Clay determined to make his way down to and in the line shack.  His plan was to take the Raven and so doing would cause the others to back down.  </p><p>"You'll never make it," Quint said.</p><p>"I'll make it.  You just give me cover," Clay said, he took his hat off and reloaded one of his guns.</p><p>Mr. Sanchez pulled at his arm.  "Please, Clay, take Ramone alive!" he begged.</p><p>"I'll try my best," Clay said.</p><p>Under heavy fire he skirted along the rocky hills to make it to the shack, he stayed as low as possible and ended up finding a blind spot in order to go in the back window of the shack.  Very quickly he had to put down several men, killing one and wounding the others, it was down to him and the Raven.  Harris watched from the floor, bound and gagged with not a little bruising where he had been beaten by his captors.</p><p>"Don't make me do this, Ramone.  Your daddy's out there, don't make him have to grieve the loss of his only son," Clay said.</p><p>"If we both shot, we would both die and I don't think you're ready to die yet," Ramone smiled.</p><p>"Maybe.  But I doubt it," Clay said.</p><p>They stared into each other's eyes for a full.minute before the Raven lost his nerve and threw his guns down.  Hanging his head in defeat.  Clay tied his hands and helped Harris to get free before going to the door and ordering everyone to cease firing.</p><p>They rounded up the whole gang and took them into town, Mr. Sanchez went along with them to get his son, an attorney.  Clay didn't have the heart to tell him that though they had taken him alive, the likelihood of him hanging was high.</p><p>Harris was riding double with Clay and had him stop in front of the burned out hull of what used to be his office.</p><p>"I can't believe it.  Everything I worked for, gone," Harris lamented.</p><p>"Look at it this way, it's not the end.  It's just a new beginning," Clay smiled.</p><p>Harris couldn't help smiling at his optimism.  "You're right as usual, sheriff," he said.</p><p>Clay grinned and patted his back.</p><p> </p><p>And that's the way it happened, in the town too tough to die.</p>
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